


Sentimental

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [25]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Backstory, Birthday Presents, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Intrigue, Jealousy, Male-Female Friendship, Revaire, Week 4 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: Summit scandals and Revaire politics threaten to interfere with Verity's birthday plans.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Decline and Fall [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 4





	Sentimental

Birthdays were a ridiculous invention suited only for the most frivolous of people, so of course Revaire's aristocracy was obsessed with marking them as lavishly and frequently as possible. Balls, masques, extravagant and unnecessary gifts, all featured prominently. He'd never marked the passing of a year in his life, but somehow he still found himself concerned with them, more often than he could spare. His wife was the worst of the lot, but her personal indulgence only marked the beginning of his torment.

He'd hardly had time to recover from Jarrod's birthday, the senseless, spoiled boy, before the next birthday was upon him. He'd had to endure hearing his son whine endlessly about his plans being disrupted by Darius's meddling, not to mention Darius's smug expression at what he undoubtedly thought was a subtle and ingenious manipulation. More than once, he'd come close to cuffing them both upside the head, to shut them up. The boy would have run off to tattle to his mother, who could be a right pain in his side, and Darius would give him that wounded expression and talk about how loyal he'd been, for how many years. Against his better judgement, he'd restrained his ire.

Hyperion did not tolerate fools gladly. Now here he was, in old Duke Wendell's dilapidated library, faced with yet another fool blabbering at him. About yet another damned birthday, no less.

"Lady Elyssen," he cut her off, leveling his fiercest glare at her. "Get to the point."

She withered visibly under his disapproval, shooting a glance sideways at his wife, who was sitting placidly by his side, her long, thin hands clasped elegantly in her silky lap.

"What the King means to say is that you needn't stand on ceremony, on such a happy occasion as this," said Violetta smoothly.

He had not, in fact, meant anything of the sort. He'd meant _shut up and get out of my sight_ , but Violetta was determined to see the situation through. When his wife wanted something, he often found it expedient to let her have it. She'd solved too many problems for him in the past, and she was valuable.

"I understand that you have something you'd like to present to the Crown Princess, on the occasion of her birthday," Violetta went on.

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the widow gratefully. "Princess Verity has, in the past, taken an interest in our kennels."

Hyperion snorted. He found it difficult to believe that the squeamish Arland princess was enamored of a kennel full of ruthless, bloodthirsty hounds. More likely she had spouted some of her polite nonsense, and the Ajahs had foolishly mistaken her empty courtesy for genuine fascination.

The lady quelled, but pressed on with her explanation. "Our hound, Maxima, gave birth to a litter earlier this summer. She was a favorite of my-- my late son, and I know he would have wanted the puppies from her first whelping to go to a good master. Someone like Princess Verity."

Her late son. Hyperion frowned. The late Lord Ajah, the boy who had been sent to the Seven-Week Summit, the boy his daughter had promised him was well in hand. Markham Ajah was notoriously deep in debt to some of Revaire's most ruthless money-lenders, before his untimely death. The debt had provided a handy hook to sink into his surviving heirs. Unfortunately, it had not been sunk quite deep enough. What connection between the young, dead Viscount and his Crown Princess, that would warrant a posthumous gift of such a personal nature?

Violetta glanced his way and, taking in his troubled expression, turned back to the widow with an icy smile. "We'll discuss the matter, Lady Elyssen. In the meantime, why don't you avail yourself of Duke Wendell's generous hospitality, for the day?"

She had no qualms about volunteering another man's household for hosting, anymore than she had about spending all his money on her extravagant birthday balls. This year's was a particular sore point. If they didn't start managing things better, they would end up just like that miserable Lord Markham, and the Emperor of Corval was a fiercer creditor than all the bankers in Revaire put together. The door clicked shut behind the widow woman's back, and Violetta turned to him with a speculative expression.

"I think it would be good for the girl to have a proper companion," she said without preamble. "She's too vague and inattentive. Raising a puppy builds character, and having an animal around will draw her attention back down to earth, where it belongs. It might even provide some protection, when it's a bit bigger."

"All sound arguments," said Hyperion thoughtfully.

Violetta straightened up. "Then what's bothering you?"

"I'm not sure," he said, "but I have some questions. Don't agree to anything, just yet."

Without another word, he launched himself out of his seat on the overstuffed couch, and marched right out of the room. Leaving his wife behind him, bewildered and possibly quite angry at him. It couldn't be helped, and it was of no significance, anyway. Hyperion could handle her anger. Right now, what he needed was answers, and for that he needed someone else.

* * *

Hyperion found his daughter practicing archery in a hastily-assembled range that had taken over the small courtyard at the heart of Wendell Abbey. Once, there might have been a kitchen garden arrayed around the mossy old stone well. The entire building had seen better days. It was a fitting home for someone who had once, so many years ago, had the gall to think to oppose him.

Gisette soon sensed his presence, spinning on her heel to face him with a honey-sweet smile. "Hello, Papa."

"Gisette," he said, "I need answers."

She made her eyes very wide. "Anything you want, Papa."

"Tell me about the Ajah boy," he demanded. "Any connection between him and our little princess? Something I should know about?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Friends, nothing more. He wouldn't dare lay a hand on her, even if he _was_ interested, which I'm almost certain he isn't. And Verity wouldn't be tempted to disgrace us. She's smarter than she looks, you know."

That much was certainly true. Despite her church mouse's manners and excruciatingly correct Arlish pedantry, Verity had a sharp and calculating mind, which she kept carefully concealed from the likes of her husband, his useless son. But her harmless facade concealed more than razor wit, and unlike his daughter, Hyperion knew exactly how _disgraceful_ she was capable of being. Or so he had thought. Behind her sweet pout and wide, doe-like eyes, was it possible she was even more shameless than he knew her to be, and always had been?

"Reassuring," he said, though he felt nothing of the sort. "I meant the other boy, though. The one we sent to Vail Isle. Did they meet during the Summit?"

"There were only fifty people there, Papa," said Gisette. "Of course they met."

Her words were so eminently reasonable that he knew she must be hiding something. He narrowed his eyes at her, but Gisette didn't wince or wilt before his obvious irritation. She blinked guilelessly at him, smiling even more sweetly than before. It was high time for her to learn that she could hide nothing from him, even if she was cleverer than her brother by half. Not that that was much of a compliment.

"Out with it, girl," he said sharply. "What aren't you telling me?"

She pouted, but she had to relent. "Verity and I had an unfortunate difference of opinion, early during the Summit," she said. "Adalric Ajah had the poor sense of insinuating himself into the middle of that altercation, and the natural misfortune that followed."

Hyperion raised an eyebrow at her. "You had an _altercation_ with her? That's funny, because she looks remarkably unpoisoned, to my eyes. Perhaps I should take a closer look."

Gisette made a face. "The poison wasn't for her, and it's not as though I administered it myself. I hired someone, of course."

"But you attacked her," he confirmed, "and she survived."

Gisette nodded her head, looking unhappy. "She made strong allies. That one will always land on her feet, I imagine."

"And Adalric?" he asked. "Was she the _unsuitable prospect_ you were on about in your letters?"

"You read my letters in person, Papa?" she said, clutching her hands to her chest. "I'm touched."

"Stay on subject, Gisette," he scolded. "If you brought me back a used princess, I shall be very cross with you."

"Hardly," she replied. "Adalric lacked the ambition to seduce Arland's princess. He contented himself with some bland, pretty girl from a nowhere county, with hardly a dowry to her name. Dull as dishwater, but they were madly in love."

So he had not left her a bequest out of some doomed romantic sentiment, apparently. Unless Gisette had missed her mark. She was well-informed as a matter of course, but everyone made mistakes.

"Are you sure?" demanded Hyperion. "If I find an Ajah bastard in my family line--"

"You can ask Verity yourself, Papa," said Gisette calmly. "She was so _moved_ by Lady Estelle's bereavement, last I knew of it, she meant for Tristan to invite her to stay at Glassmere. No doubt intending to match-make a union between the two of them." She snorted. "She's a bright girl, but too sentimental by half."

His daughter's insights, then, were of a kind with his own. It didn't seem like either Ajah boy was cause for concern, but that didn't solve the mystery of why their wretched mother was so determined to gift his Crown Princess with one of her pure-bred, hand-fed coursers. Other than sheer sentimentality. Maybe the most ridiculous explanation was, after all, the correct one.

Without bothering to take his leave, Hyperion turned back towards the abbey's interior. Behind him, he heard the telltale _thunk!_ of Gisette taking up her bow again.

He had to talk to Verity.

* * *

Verity was not in the parlor with the Duke and his daughter. She was not in the library, where he had left his wife. She was not anywhere where other people might be, as a matter of course. This was good, in that it would allow Hyperion the space to freely interrogate her, without anyone overhearing anything inconvenient. Her love of solitude had served him well before, though usually for far more entertaining purposes than today's ill-fated quest.

It also meant he needed to invest some time in puzzling out where she was hiding herself today, which was the main disadvantage. But he had spent so many evenings that way before, he'd gotten quite good at it. Of course, the girl herself could never know how many hours he'd spent on the prowl, searching her out. It would make her vain, which was an intolerable vice in a woman. Hyperion already had a vain wife and a vain daughter. A vain mistress was absolutely out of the question. Already she tried his nerves more than enough, in her unique way.

He located her, eventually, in the ruins of the abbey's old gatehouse. She was sitting in the deep grass that carpeted the ground in patches, between the crumbling remains of the flagstone floor, bare feet curled under her, with a book open in her lap. Sometime during the summer, she had taken to wearing her hair down during the day, in a thick honey-golden braid draped over her shoulder, with little tendrils of hair escaping to curl around her forehead. She wiggled her toes in the dewy grass and gnawed her bottom lip as she read.

He leaned against the crumbling stone doorjamb and watched her, waiting for her daydreamer's mind to finally focus enough on the actual world to notice his presence. Verity licked her thumb, and froze in the act of reaching to turn the page of her book. Ah, there it was. Finally.

"Hello, Verity," he said.

She sighed and said, almost plaintively, "All I wanted was a quiet afternoon with a good book."

He pushed away from the stone doorway and advanced on her, holding out his hand. " _Is_ it a good book? Give it here."

"I will not!" A look of outrage spread over her face; it was adorable.

Hyperion couldn't help but smile. "How else am I to judge whether your pastimes are worthy of a Crown Princess or not?"

"You could trust me to have good judgment," she retorted.

If she'd had good judgment, she never would have gotten involved with him. It would have made a decent jab, but it wasn't in his interest to remind her of that. Instead, he sighed a long-suffering sigh and looked at her as a man gravely disappointed.

"I'd hoped you could be sensible," he said, "but I haven't time for this kind of nonsense. Not today. I have other questions for you today, Verity."

She always shuddered just a little when he said her name. It was gratifying.

"My birthday is coming soon," she said, assuming a sweet expression of utterly false innocence.

"Yes," he said. "I know."

She straightened rapidly. "Is this really about my birthday?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "If you could only be patient enough to listen when I speak, you would find out what the matter is, much more quickly."

She pouted.

"The Ajah boy," he said sharply, to bring her focus back to the subject that most interested him. "You knew each other?"

A frown of confusion flitted over Verity's face. "Tristan? No, Adalric, surely."

"The elder of the two," said Hyperion.

"Oh," said Verity. "I wouldn't say we _knew_ each other. We met at Vail Isle, but we hardly interacted. I met his betrothed. We formed a bit of a connection after his-- tragedy. We correspond."

He scrutinized her face, searching for the lie. There was no sign of it. Of course, that _could_ just mean that she'd become a better liar since arriving in his court. He supposed that also had its uses, if that was the case.

"I have no reason to lie," she said earnestly, and then amended, "well, not about _that_."

Hyperion scowled at her. "We'll circle back to that, later. Do you have any idea why Adalric's mother is bent and determined to give you a dog from her kennels for your birthday present?"

Verity's round, soft face lit up with a smile so bright that it made her skin glow golden in the sunlight. "Which one? Is it Bonnie?"

"If you wanted a dog, you could have gotten one from the royal kennels in Starfall City," he informed her.

"Gisette promised I would, months ago," she replied, "but then she never spoke of it again."

He sighed again. "I suppose it's for the best that you should have some creature about that can offer you protection, and you would learn a thing or two about loyalty, in the process. Are you certain you're up to the task of caring for such a needy thing as a puppy?"

Verity made a face. "I got married to a Crown Prince with the understanding that my role was to provide heirs. If I can be trusted with a newborn infant, surely I can be trusted with a puppy just as readily."

"You're not having a baby any time soon," he said emphatically, "so put the thought out of your mind."

"Am I getting a puppy, though?" she asked, bright-eyed.

He sighed. "I'm not opposed, in principle."

She broke into a sunny smile. "Your Majesty is too kind."


End file.
